


Odd Occurrences

by Jeeblie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Wings, Big softie, Cas has giant wings, Castiel's true form makes frequent appearences, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Someone help these fools, Very cool wings, Wings, big wings equals clumsiness, cas sits and just has long deep conversations with reader, cas's true form is massive, cinnamon roll cas, despite knowing each other for awhile, reader and cas are just awkward bumbling idiots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-01-04 17:56:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21201737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeeblie/pseuds/Jeeblie
Summary: When an ancient primordial being is tied to your soul- life kinda sucks.





	1. Chapter 1: Detailed Accounts

**Author's Note:**

> There needs to be more fanfiction where people play with the idea of Cas having wings.

Gosh. You never really noticed it before.

It had all been utter and pure chance.

One wandering look.

And one big fat mystery placed in your head.

Anytime Castiel- angel of the lord- entered a tight and enclosed space, things around him always fell over.

And you knew for a fact that he didn't touch anything with his body- you had admittedly and rather embarrassingly been watching.

Take, for example, the day you first noticed this actually quite regular occurence.

It was a normal day- oddly peaceful for the usual types of bloody filled hours you'd have to deal with- still peaceful non the less.

You had settled yourself comfortably in your room. Comfortably meaning you were huddled under the masses of blankets you had collected, laptop sitting on your lap and pillows behind you worn in but just as supportive as the day you bought them.

Your room was small- smaller, you should say. Bigger then the average room, but smaller then any other rooms in your house.

What made it especially cramped was the sheer amount of things you hoarded away in the enclosed space. A massive bookshelf took up a full wall, filled with every odd and worn book you found interesting over the years. It was covered head to toe in knick knacks, and paintings, and pieces of papers- drawings, letters-

Looking at the shelf alone without proper preparation was akin to walking into a blast of confetti.

If that wasn't enough- the desk on the opposite side was just as cluttered- if not even more, with stacks of half finished papers piled up into a row of messy eye strains. Knick knacks found it's way onto this surface just the same as the bookshelf, not one free space found.

That was just the furniture.

To cut it short- drawing, painting, and all pieces that fall under those two categories were littering the walls, and the ground only had one solid path that lead to your bed- clothes, in clumped piles, and the creaky box fan took up any other sort of walking space.

We aren't here to talk about your room though.

It had been a peaceful day- a peaceful evening of looking at your laptop in contentedness.

Had.

Key word.

With so little as a warning, Castiel had suddenly blipped into your room, standing with his back to the door with an almost nervous like look on his usually neutral face.

The fluttering of feathers was what initially made you look up- but when a pile of your unsorted mess of papers fell, you tensed, half raising yourself up off the bed before sinking back down at the fact that they had already touched the pile of clothes below.

Looking to Castiel complacency, with a passive yet wanton expression, you spoke, "Did you- uh." An eyebrow raised as another half a pile slid off the desk, "Need something?"

The angel faltered. Not because of the very passive aggressive tone of voice you chose, but clearly because something in his own mind refused to add up. His contemplative eyes found refuge on the floor, looking to and from the mess in a meager attempt to try to solve something.

Honest to God, you took the small moment of silence to size him up. Trenchcoat or no- eyes focused on you or no- you weren't passing an opportunity to ogle.

When his eyes finally rose, foreboding look steeled as he decided himself, you didn't quite stop checking him out, not entirely.

So the moment he started walking towards you- taking the only clear path towards your bed and avoiding the mess, you very clearly noticed how the papers atop the clothing stacks rustled.

Not with wind- but in the way that you couldn't rightfully place a finger on. As if something large and soft had pressed into them and dragged them the slightest of bits along the tops of your clothes.

Not even just the paper- the clothes on the other side of him, clear of papers, were being slightly dragged along as well.

Sure- those two little things could pass as the wind from when he first flew in still rifling about- but after he walked past your squeaky old box fan- mind you not at all touching it- and it had the gal to just outright fall over- you were more then confused.

Cas sent a look to the fan, slightly sorry- as though it was somehow his fault- before immediately moving on.

You didn't have time to ponder those things, as Castiel had seated himself right onto your blankets, half sitting, half standing. His face so hardened with resolve that you barely took into account that yes, when he twisted himself to half sit on your bed, the sheets that were all the way at the bottom (where he clearly was not sitting) had rustled and been pushed.

"(Y/N)." His gruff voice again, left you no room to contemplate these things, and when you looked up into his stone face, you watched as the roughness of it eased up, cracking before softening into a simply confused expression.

"I need your advice."

In that moment- you immediately let go of whatever suspicion you had about the so called 'mystery.' You softened your body language, practically melting into a calmer and more emotionally receptive person.

Cas needed to talk about something serious- he wouldn't have come if it wasn't.

So, you released your thoughts and heard him out.

But now- two weeks after that instance- and it refused to leave your mind.

Every room Cas entered you watched, noticing the subtle movements of carpets, and coats, and all other sorts of niche elements.

Another example for instance-

When entering through a suspect's door, he scrunched himself into an awkward position before walking down the hallway. Immediately after passing a rack of coats, all of the jackets looked as though a large hand had brushed past them.

Coincidence that the hallway into the suspect's house was very narrow? You thought not.

And again- there was yet another time you noticed these strange occurrences-

Due to safety reason, you had to drag Castiel along with you to a grocery store.

Like the loyal person- or angel in this case- he stuck to you like glue, refusing to touch anything should the moment distract him from his purpose. Which was fine with you- company was pleasant even if not as talkative.

You spent most of your time there staring at the cookie aisle- and when you saw your chance to slip through a narrow opening between a row of chips, and a row of pretzels, you jumped on it.

Meandering through them with ease, you looked back as Cas, the awkward shifting of his back as he scrunched himself together telltale signs that things weren't as they appeared. A moment later when a full row of chips fell because Cas had given up on scrunching himself into an uncomfortable position added more and more to your growing pile of proof.

For what? You just didn't seem to know.

You had taken to writing down all the things you noticed. From the carpet, to your papers and clothes, and the box fan, and the coats, and the chips, and even newer things like the time he outright pushed a chair over by accident.

With your detailed accounts of all of these instances, it became abundantly clear that the more flustered or emotional he was, the greater the span of these occurrences-

When a fight broke out between Castiel and Dean, both of them brimming with a smoldering storm of wrath, you didn't see it coming.

Dean was the first to stand up, aggressively pointing a finger straight into Castiel's face.

This only instigated the situation, Cas- already on edge about the very sensitive situation, rising up with an unhaltered fury.

You were standing beside him when this happened, and got hit in the face with something apparently very strong- as when you awoke you were lying on the couch, all of the boys settled, but still very clearly standing on ice.

Cas has apologized to you- as though it was somehow his fault I got knocked out. Voice muffled by guilt and concern.

"...Sorry." was the only thing he managed to grumble out, looking to the floor like a shameful dog.

Despite being beside him, you had several feet of distance between the both of you- out of range for the mediocre rustling of papers- causing your confusion to seep into your acceptance.

"It's...-" your brows furrowed, before you let out a soft smile, "It's all good, Cas."

Distance or no- you had apparently been in range for a pop to the face.

You would find out why and how these things were happening- so help the God above.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did not edit


	2. Chapter 2: A Glimpse

The next week, you decided you should drop everything you had been trying to solve.

Constantly stressing over the fine details of it all made you lose hours upon hours of sleep.

You knew that angel's, in fits of intense emotions or in a simple way of trying to force a point, could make lights flicker about them. Storms brew around them- heavy winds crashing about with their entrance- and sometimes exit.

You tried to stop pondering this fact- tried to simply step on the flame, and after several days of doing just that, you finally settled yourself.

You had to remember why you even met Sam, and Dean- why you were holed up in their bunker.

You were in danger- demons and angels alike trying to flock to you- place their filthy palms on your soul.

It was 'special' as they liked to put. Held connections with beings even you didn't and couldn't fathom.

You came to know Castiel long before they had ever wanted a piece of you. You laughed at the chances you had of meeting him in the alleyway next to a pub.

Even you being there at that exact place, exact time, was utter chance. Got lost, got blown off the usual route home because of a group of burglar type people.

You rushed into that alley, panicked, forcing your way straight into a cloud of something warm and soft against the skin of your face.

You knew it was off the moment you shouldered through that mist of luminescent air, soul quaking with the notion that yes, whatever you had just walked through wasn't human.

Perks of having ancient celestial beings on your side you supposed.

You didn't know what he was. But he knew what you were. And in a burst of poorly times thoughts and emotions, you stared into the air at nothing, visions pressing into the backs of your eyes- visions that depicted what he actually was.

You held a solemn expression despite this, steeling yourself as the sound of church bells rang your head dry. A voice filtered through, confused, and wary of you just as much as you were to it.

Your soul encouraged you to flee. Told you that wandering into the realm of something that wasn't human and wasn't even something you recognized was dangerous.

In a genius movement of nerves, you rushed past the strange warm and velvety mist, coughing as you exited back into the much colder and ache inducing air.

The sketchy looking people that had gave chase to you showed up the moment you exited, intentions clear and malevolent.

The last word voiced to you by the misty entity you had passed through was a word that promised to help, promised that it'd all be fine for you, that he understood what was troubling you.

Light in it's purest form flooded that alleyway a second after, violent screaming from the men filling your ears.

You turned to look, of course you did, and the sight of a beast, so tall it rose above the pub's gritty roof, so large it's pawed legs barely fit in the alleyway, and one large pair of extraordinary black wings so magnificent that you couldn't pry your eyes away.

The light that surrounded it obliterated the men that were chasing you, eyes blown out of their sockets with the pure and rare energy radiating off of the beast.

The next moment- it was gone.

The only proof you had that it had ever been there was the dead bodies laying on the dark curb and the softest whispers teasing your ears saying that you were safe.

Your meetings became more frequent after that, meeting through dreams and other forms of unconscious states, until the both of you began to relay much deeper and troubling problems to each other.

Settled on your bed, thinking over all the problems and mysteries you still had yet to solve, you sat up from the pile of blankets that were over you. The whole day you holed yourself there, scribbling information on paper, and fending off sleep. You felt that it was time to rouse yourself from this dreaded spell of procrastination.

"(Y/N)!" You heard Dean call, a bit terse sounding, "Get your ass out here we need to talk!"

Frowning, you threw yourself off the bed, taking steps through your mess of a room before softly creaking your door open.

Peering into the dimly lit hallway. God, someone likes to conserve electricity.

Rushing down the hall, you made you way to the library, peeking in and seeing Dean sitting at a table. Sam and Cas sat opposite to him, faces serious with the presumed news they had received.

Stepping into room, Castiel made eye contact with you first, dread still painting his face.

"What happened?" Was the first thing out of your mouth, legs making their way over to the table before you stopped, standing beside the table and soaking in the concern that came off of them all. Your arms crossed over your chest, softly clenching yourself for comfort.

Sam sighed, long and deep, before lifting his brown eyes to look at you "Cas brought back news." His hands ran down his moose of a face, before he all but slammed his head on the table.

Cas took initiative to keep explaining, "We have more information about the temperament of the beings that are... tied to you."

Nodding, you idled closer.

"They- or well- the main celestial spirit that has interest in you- appeared to me in a vision. It was very unhappy."

"So basically we have to worry about another god awful threat looming over our heads." Dean summed up, facing you with his classic bitch face on.

You leaned in, lips parting to speak, "Well do we have a lead? Anything to bounce off of?"

Sam just groaned, muffling his voice on the table.

Cas remained silent while Dean raised an eyebrow, "You think we'd be acting so beat up if we knew anything?"

Huffing, you placed your hand on you hips, taken off guard with the sudden backtalk, "Well I don't know-" you paused, "You know why it chose to talk to Cas? Or maybe what type of beast this thing is?"

"No." Was Dean's finishing sentence, as he settled on staring at Sam, "All we know is that this all powerful wack job is riled up about something, and is a cataclysmic disaster waiting to happen."

Cas- entirely ready to search for this later- whispered to himself, "Wack job..." looking to the table in a small fit of confusion.

"Don't ask." Dean stopped the angel in his tracks.

The room finally settled into silence- and you took a moment to just sigh in your groggy sleep lusting mind, grabbing a chair and spinning it around so you could sit down in a position quite similar to Sam. Head on the table, back hunched.

"Sometimes I wish I could just go back to being a dumb human."

No one replied.

Everyone just continued to sit in your collective sighs of defeat.

But like a bolt of lightning hit, Sam sat up straighter.

"Okay- Idea!" He made eye contact with everyone in the room, "So we don't know what this thing wants- but we can still start ruling out what it couldn't be!"

With everyone's attention on him, he stood up from his chair, running over to a drawer and rummaging through it, "It- uh- it's a primordial being that could have existed before death, right?"

Castiel watched Sam as he searched about, narrowing in when the moose pulled a sheet of clean rumpled paper out, "Most definitely. Nothing can emit that type of sheer power- I only saw it in a vision and yet I could feel it shake my very being."

"Alright see- we're getting somewhere-" The Winchester traipsed back over, placing the paper on the table and whipping out a pen, "We can rule out the things we know it can't be, which, quite clearly isn't any of the horsemen."

He scribbled all the horsemen's names down, immediately crossing them off.

"How can we be so sure it isn't a horsemen?" Dean said, leaning forward and clearly intrigued.

Sam raised an eyebrow, "How it isn't a horsemen- Dean- Cas viewed it through a vision- and if you would recall-"

"It's power felt like a warm hand." Castiel cut in.

Sam pointed at Cas as if it would make a point, "A warm hand- not a sickly- or rage inducing- or literally any of the things we've encountered-"

"So?" Dean questioned, "It's hand feels warm- so what?"

"It felt orgasmic."

Silence swamped everyone the moment Castiel said that.

"Oh god..." Sam spoke, slightly repulsed at how casually Cas threw the word into their conversation.

"Not in a sexual way."

Everyone relaxed their shoulders, more curious then ever.

You met eyes with Cas, watching him as he shifted from where he sat. The dim lights in the room made you strain to focus in on his features, his lips quirking when he met your eyes, "You look like you have a question."

Smiling back, you flashed your teeth as a chuckled slipped past your lips, "More then you know."

"Your thoughts?" Cas inquired.

All of the passing questions that you'd been pondering for the past few weeks rose to the surface- a bubbling sensation of frustration threatening to pop with the next few words you wanted to throw at him.

You withheld yourself- he didn't need to be bothered by trivial things like box fans falling over, and chips dropping off of shelves.

"If not sexual- how did it feel?"

The angel raised an eyebrow, no hesitation at all- in fact, clear confidence pushing his being forward to answer, "It felt like me."

"A mist." You clarified, "A cloud of warmth and velvet."

Castiel nodded, "If the way you described walking through my ethereal form is anything like that, then yes."

Dean and Sam watched the two of you narrow in on each other, passively accepting the weird profound way you interacted and referenced things.

Not passively enough, as Dean bitch faced his way into your conversation, "English please."

Turning to him, you explained it in the most simple terms you could, "Take the most important person to you, have thanksgiving dinner with them, and then contentedly hug with a full stomach."

Sam and Dean both 'oh'ed.

Good- they understood what you meant.

Taking a step back, you grinned at all of them, determination newly making its way into your posture.

Cas looked at you- the gaze of an old friend- the gaze of a companion you wouldn't trade.

He blatantly acknowledged your refreshed confidence with a quirk of his own lips, thus further sealing you brightened mood.

Parting your lips, you smugly stated, "So- let's get to crossing things off this list...!"

The next moment, when Castiel cumbersomely stood up from the table, the books on the table behind him decided to push themselves off the edge.

God, all your frustrated thoughts came back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not edited
> 
> Tell me if you see any blatant mistakes


	3. Chapter 3: Homestuck

Contrary to your finishing statement, you were immediately forced to sit back down. In the bunker.

Grounded, would be an appropriate term.

Grounded to stay inside this stupid bunker.

Had you forgotten to mention that the grocery trip you took Cas on had ended with demons surrounding the two of you, and Cas single handedly fighting a way out of that situation. It was a violent and brutal mess of blood and bodies, and in the end, his entire arm stopped working. For a full day. Courtesy of one of them having an angel blade that hit him in the joint of his shoulder.

Yeah- so maybe they had good reason to ground you.

But it was so unfathomably boring sitting cramped up in your room with nothing but the shutter of your box fan and the hum of the ventilation.

Your laptop momentarily distracted you, but the moment you realized three hours had passed and you had done nothing but watch cat videos- you decided you'd had enough internet for the day, instead plopping back onto your bed and staring at the ceiling.

The ceiling was the only clean thing in your room- no piles of dirty clothes, no papers, or knick knacks, or even any drawings.

'I could change that.' You had thought. Staring endlessly into the blankness of it. You layed there, feeling seconds tick past, until second had become minutes, and minutes had become hours.

You watched with uttermost concentration as a spider built her web, each intricate spindle of string layering itself into a piece of art.

You wished you could do that too. Make art from nothing.

With a battered feeling of resignation, you closed your eyes, finally relenting to the feeling of sleep you had been denying.

Like being spun, the world flipped from your room, to the sky. The feeling of dropping settling in your stomach as your whole body spun in place until you hit something.

Your eyes gently opened, back pressed against a moving mass of light and heat. The sight you took in was of the night and day, colliding together to form one singular sky. One outstretched horizon, never ending, and vacant of any clouds.

The ground below you was nothing other then the feeling of fur, velvety and soft beneath even your most tender touch. The fur was long, a mass of silk that tumbled over your shoulders, and buried you in its warm.

Like eating Thanksgiving, and hugging afterwards.

Sitting up, and pushing the locks of fur off of your head, you took in even more, the outstretched wings colored with the coal of a used fireplace, so inky and dark that they made the night sky look bright.

The eyes that you very well knew were on those broadest part of those wings were shut. At peace. Not needed, because this moment in time was far too comforting to ever need more eyes.

Past the wings lay the built back joints of the beast you lay on, hips swaying with the air current that whipped past your face, sending your hair spiraling forward. Clawed paws positioned themselves beside its long rudder like tail, balancing the flight of his massive body and steadying the beating of his wings.

You sat, tenderly perched in the mane of this beast, wind rushing past you in a chilled breeze.

Goosebumps traveled up your arms as you began to climb its neck, finding it hard not to stop and bury yourself within its jungle of silky tendrils.

When you reached its head, you plopped down onto your stomach, laying contentedly in the warmth of the creature, the two heads beside you didn't bother to glance, simply keeping their numerous eyes forwards- steadied on the never ending horizon, just as the horizon was steadied on it.

You sat there for the longest time, simply taking in the sights of the moving and merging sky- the fur, and wings, and all the grace and light that followed behind the creatures movement.

After sitting there for the what felt like hours, the creature spoke, voice echoing from the sky around you.

Your bones shook, and your muscles jiggled as you let yourself continue to limply drape yourself atop its head.

"You haven't been sleeping often."

The voice was that of a thousand church bells ringing, blaring out their stark and merry noises.

But to your ears, the voice was that of your friend, Castiel, always so gruff and grumbly sounding.

You didn't reply to him, instead choosing to continue basking in the feeling of contentment.

"I was beginning to get worried." He spoke again, several eyes on the beast's head finally turning to acknowledge you.

Squeezing the last bit of silence you could out of the moment, you finally relented, not bothering to look into his eyes, "I've got a lot on my mind."

He hummed, a thought processing humm, one that people use when they take in information.

"I can listen."

Did you want him to know what you were thinking? Did you want the frustration that was gathering in your soul to seep into a calm conversation?

Decidedly, no. You didn't.

"Just having you here is comfort enough. I'd like to rest."

Castiel said nothing at this, heavy wings slowly beating the wind as he flew.

His feathers curled with stopping motion, strong gales forming from the force of his push.

You blinked as the wind hit your face- eyes opening to an entirely different world.

The sky was red- oranges and pinks streaking their way across the clouds, and stars blinking about with a sure confidence. The moon appeared rather close, as even you could pick out the craters and shadows that flickered across its surface.

Castiel stood upon ground, hand like front paws pressed against the rocky platform he had landed at. His wings stretched one last time to their full height, before they folded back up against his lean back.

You knew the ritual well, squeezing a few strong tuffs of fur between your palms in preparation for the drop.

A bend in his back legs first, before he let himself slip to the ground, draping himself along the rocky surface like a carpet of silk.

He rested his three mighty head's upon the ground, and you took the opportunity to slide off of him, touching down on the ground and immediately burying yourself into the fur of his neck.

The usual ritual.

No words spoken, yet all of them wishing to be said.

The relationship you had with Cas was a strange one. The fact that you can handle seeing his true form being an almost instant click with him.

He was more comfortable in this form. More confident. And anytime you had the pleasure of talking to him from inside his vessel- he would be contrastly and decidedly more gruff and withdrawn.

You liked to believe that talking to him when he was in his true form made him accustomed to your presence.

"So- where are you right now?" You questioned.

"In the back of Dean's car."

"Hah- course you are."

It fell silent again, before Castiel spoke with a tone of concern, "I don't think hunting down every primordial being we possibly know of is a good solution to your problem."

Humming, you buried yourself further into the velvety smoothness of his fur, "Yeah. Me neither."

"Should I voice this to the brothers?" Castiel shifted from where he lay, letting his back legs stretch to the side of him.

"Not right now. You'd have to leave if you did." You ran your thumb along each of the strands, marveling at them despite seeing them a numerous amounts of times, "Maybe later though."

Cas hummed again, "Hmm." He huffed- a mild amount of amusement finding it's way into the breath of air, "Later indeed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mm- I edit later


	4. Chapter 4: Nice to See You

Waking up was rancid.

One moment your basking in Castiel's grace, resting beside him- velvety fur and all, and the next, you were back in your bed. Still exhausted, aching from sleeping in such an odd position, and absolutely stir crazy with how long you've been in the same room.

In your dream, with Cas, and all the wondrous things that that entails- you could do anything. Venture any mountain, fly any ocean, or any groundless sky.

So once again, you repeat yourself.

Waking up was rancid.

Instead of moving though, you simply continued to lay, swaddled in your mass of blankets and in desperate need of a cup of water.

For a second, you wondered if Castiel would give you a cup if you prayed.

But who were you kidding- of course he would. And it'd be hilarious how nice he could be.

You didn't feel like bothering him, so instead, you finally threw yourself off the bed, bare feet making contact with the papers on the floor.

A paper.

The paper.

The paper you were using to write down all the strange things you've noticed.

With a slight squint in your eye, and the small nagging thought in your head popping back up, you bent down and picked the list up. Reading over the words was almost second nature by now, with just how frequently you spent doing so. All of the lettering was scratchy and rushed, almost unreadable if you didn't know what to look for.

Eyes reaching the last event, you reread it several times before sighing. Knocking off books was last on the list. The most recent. And you can still remember that uncomfortable yet bashful look he made after knocking everything off the table.

He had to be aware that he was doing these things- he couldn't not be aware.

Thinking that hard about it made you scrunch your face up into an uncomfortable position, and for the umpteenth time you told yourself that you wouldn't think about it again.

Perhaps that glass of water you wanted would help.

Finally set on what to do, you made a beeline to your door, throwing it open with only one objective in mind.

What you didn't expect was for the door to bash into something- a hefty bang of hard door meeting flesh and you let out an ungodly screech, peeking around the door to see who or what you had hit.

Rather then a person, laying on the ground with the sheer force that you had hit them with- there stood Castiel. Door still smashed against his face, and posture surprisingly perfect for having just been slammed with a door.

"Ow." He grumbled, monotone voice gruff, and by the tone it sounded as though being hit didn't pain him at all.

Finally letting what happened sink in, you quickly stepped out of your safe room, closing the door and frantically apologized, "Oh god- sorry Cas- I didn't know you'd be there-"

"No need for apologies." He shifted, turning to face you directly, "It didn't at all hurt."

"Still-" You cut in, tone worried, before Castiel pointedly cut off anything you had to say,

"I am an angel- door slams don't faze me." He paused, neutral expression finally curving into a gentle smile, "The thought is appreciated though."

Smiling back you looked him in the eyes, before starting your walk to the kitchen. Without needing to gesture for him to follow, he wandered after you, keeping pace with your footsteps.

"So- your back early." Stepping over dirty pair of jean, you cringed, mentally noting to tell Dean about his habits, "What gives?"

Cas took a moment to assess what you said, still stiffly meandering next to you. He looked confused- as usual, before another look crossed him. The 'I solved the problem' look, or 'I get the reference' look popped onto his face.

"Ah- I'll assume you weren't praying then."

Turning to him you furrowed your eyebrows, "Praying?"

"Yes." Castiel said, taking in your confusion before continuing, "You wanted a cup of water- so the moment we finished investigating, I decided I'd drop by."

Hearing that, you froze walking entirely, mouth dropping, and temperature rising. You were speechless, and for good reason. You didn't know how much he heard, or what he thought, and the fact that he actually did come made it even more mortifying. He came to give you a glass of water. A glass of water.

Red bloomed all over your face, and immediately became magnified when you noticed Cas had begun to stare.

Both of you were standing in the hallway, looking to each other with your own respective emotions. To make matter even worse you finally realized he was holding a cup of water in his hands.

He extended an arm, titling the cup at you for your hand to accept.

You did so, albeit much more timidly then the way he had so boldly placed his hand in your direction.

A cold cup of water was now settled between your fingers- in the exact cup you imagined it in- the exact temperature you wanted it to be- and even the exact amount of water you pictured. The fact that he didn't just grab any old cup made his offering all the more appreciated.

"Thank you..." You mumbled, raising the mug to your chapped lips and sipping a layer of iced water off the top. The cold liquid was soothing for the dryness in your throat, "You uh-... You didn't need to go out of your way for me..."

At that Castiel smiled that gentle smile of his, looking back down the hallway and saying nothing as you continued to sip on the water.

"I mean it." You stated again, much more confidently then before, frazzled state of mind finally overcoming his thoughtfulness, "I appreciate it, Cas."

His smile started to grow just a little bigger, before he quickly placed a hand over his lips. He looked flustered. Not nearly as bad as you were, but just enough that he'd have to resort to using a hand to keep himself in check.

"I know." He mumbled back.

You blinked.

And he was gone, the rustling of feathers and wind the only thing left behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slurrp.
> 
> That some refreshing water
> 
> Things that I didn't write in.  
1\. Cas standing outside your door wondering if he should knock or not  
2\. The lights flickering when you thanked him  
3\. Just how flustered he had actually become


	5. Chapter 5: Kicks and Giggles

Castiel didn't quite know why he decided to pop in. He heard you- very clearly initiating a prayer- which very clearly was an accident-

Heard you ramble for a bit-

He listened to you as if your voice was a radio program playing in the car. Heard it static off back into an empty signal. It was obviously not a prayer- he knew this.

Yet.

Despite that, he decided to visit. First to the kitchen- pulling a worn coffee mug from the cabinet. The tacky Christmas sweater on the front was worn with how often it was used.

Then came the water, and then off he went to your room.

The amount of time he spent, standing just outside your door with thoughts of rejection filling his mind, he couldn't quite entail.

For what he would be rejected of? He didn't know. Was it the water? Would you not enjoy the fact that he chose the exact cup you wanted? Or the temperature- would it be too cold?

The rest proceeded as you know- you throwing the door open, apologizing, being handed your water, before Castiel decided he didn't want to be in the hallway anymore.

From the dim hallway, to the backseat of Dean's car- it was a stark contrast- and Dean cursed as Cas appeared.

"God! Cas- give me a warning."

Cas didn't reply.

Hand still firmly pressed against his mouth- forcefully if anything.

He pushed his back against the leather of the seat, curling up on his hand with a shaking arm.

Dean paused, looking back at the angel through the cars mirror, "You all right?"

Dean's question broke the silence, and finally Cas said something- or rather made a noise.

A smothered giggle of a noise- a laugh with so much excitement that one couldn't help but attempt to suppress.

A toddler who stole candy.

A fox who finally stole a chicken.

A high schooler who just had just said hi to their crush.

"Heehee-"

Dean stared at Castiel as though he had grown a third eye- mouth agape as he watched Cas let out a giggle to himself.

"The fuck-" Dean started, stopping when Cas straightened himself, and dropped the smile that was on his face.

Dean continued to watch him. An eyebrow raised, and mouth still pulled up with a strangled expression.

"The fuck was that."

Cas merely looked at him, blank face stone cold with a petulant look of sour indignance, "What was what?" He simply said.

Dean twisted himself to face Castiel, "Oh- I don't know- the giggle fest you just had??"

Cas squinted at the Winchester, his back straightening even farther. He kept his mouth aptly shut- only staring forwards at Dean, "..."

The awkward silence that pasted them was absolutely excruciating, no one seemed to want to make the first move to talk again.

Dean- pursing his lips- raised both of his eyebrows in his own mock way of trying to insist that Cas tell him more.

Dean started to speak, a warning in his tone, "...Casss-"

"-(Y/N)." Cas cut in. A single word, spoken in a begrudged manner- as he honestly didn't want it to slip from his lips- not to Dean- or Sam- or anyone for that matter. The fact that it still came out made him want to bury himself ten times over- because, swearing at his father above, he clearly could.

Why would he not want to hear your name from his mouth?

He loved to hear it said.

Why would he act as though you weren't allowed to be spoken of?

He didn't understand-

He just knew he didn't want to tell something.

Dean just cheekily looked at him, smile that of a weasel, "Annnd...?"

Castiel stared hard and long at him yet another time, squinting and wondering why he ever dropped your name in the first place.

"She...." Cas paused, relenting and finalizing his thoughts, "She makes me, very, very happy...."

Dean watched in silence as Cas worked things out in his mind.

"I find the overwhelming need to smile around her rather disturbing." As he said this, another grin rose to his face- as giddy and excited as before- his hand immediately slipping to his mouth to cover the grin that began to form.

He took a few moments of covering his mouth and tapping his foot before his face fell back down to neutral.

"She's very nice to me. And I appreciate that."

Finally finished, Cas looked up at Dean, who's cheeky smile had finally dropped as he had lost much of the initial interest.

They both kept looking at each other- Cas with that lost puppy look he always has on, and Dean with an 'I'm finished having my fun' look.

"What- you want advice?" Dean said, questioning the motives of Cas's intense staring.

"Advice for what?" Castiel replied, shifting further forwards.

"You know- the (Y/N) problem." Dean grouched out.

"I wasn't aware there was a problem- is there something I don't know about?" Castiels worry became very prevalent- brow instantly furrowing and lips dipping downwards as quick as he said it.

Dean huffed, turning back in his seat to look back out the windshield, "No. There's no problem-" he pursed his lips again, "God- you sound like a hormonal chic tryna ask her prom crush out."

Cas relaxed, sinking back into his seat and letting his face revert to a neutral emotion, "Good- no problem."

"..." Dean eyed Cas in the mirror for a bit, taking turns between glancing at the store Sam still had yet to get back from and Cas's worried expression.

"So why'd you pop back in the car? You coulda gone anywhere else to get your giggles out."

Cas sucked in a breathe.

"I don't know- Dean." He frowned yet again, "I feel you may be right about my search for advice." Rubbing his chin, Cas sighed, before running a hand down his forehead, "For what? I'm not sure."

With little to no notice, the car door clicked open, and in waltzed Sam, stepping into the car and digging through the grocery bag as he settled into the leather. The atmosphere from before faded as he finally situated himself, still rifling through his bag and totally oblivious to the serious tension from the previous conversation.

Both the angel and Dean watched as he did this, watched as he took a pack of cookies out and placed them down on his lap.

He plopped the bag down onto the floor, acknowledging Cas with a simple, 'Hey Cas.' before turning to Dean with a sorry look.

"Alright- so- they didn't have pie- but they had cookies- so that should hold you over."

Silence.

Cas knew the intensity of the situation.

Sam knew the intensity of the situation.

Dean stared at Sam with a blank look.

"I NEED MY PIE DAMMIT--"

Cas stared as Dean and Sam engaged into an almost aggressive conversation. Watching their tense bodies, and strewn brows.

You never acted like that with him. You were always so unbelievably patient.

You let him work things out on his own, you guided him when he lost track, and you were always just- so calm- about things.

He... loved it.

With a silent gasp Cas looked up at the brothers who were still arguing, Dean starting the car up with a rumble while indignantly saying that 'cookies aren't shit to pie.'

Someone finally figured themselves out. And that someone was definitely Castiel.

The need to hide rose very quickly in him- and he in turn rose to pop into existence somewhere else.

He very quickly realized that, 'Oh- I usually take solace with (Y/N)' which was not an option in this chess board.

So he settled back down into his seat, blankly looking at the roof of the car, and letting the purr of the engine become white noise to all the swirling thoughts inside his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp- shit- now he scared  
and hiding from you


	6. Chapter 6: Sparks

Sitting around and waiting at home was never a pleasant thing. Castiel had up and left you the moment you took the water, so after returning to your room, you had plodded through your mess and sat at your desk for awhile.

The water was finished rather quickly, and you had repeatedly picked the cup up before putting it back down just to relish in the pleasant thoughts that came with being offered a good deed.

The piles of papers covering every inch of the desk were a bit of a hindrance, so you had pushed a pile off, watching as the drawings met the floor where even more papers were.

Setting your cup down in the limited space, you relaxed into your seat.

That was- incredibly nice of Cas. He was always so nice to you.

Looking to your worn Christmas tree sweater mug, you smiled, reaching out and taking it into your hands. Your thumbs traced the rims of the mug for what must have been the fourth time.

Smile still on your face you placed it back down- again, before spinning around the best you could in your chair- which consisted of you stepping all over your piles of clothes. Exhaling- you let out a small happy laugh.

Gosh- you were suddenly giddy.

Sitting up straight, you stepped out of your chair before flinging yourself back onto your bed.

Laptop on hand, you flipped it open, shooting Sam a text to ask when they'd be back.

Quick on the draw, Sam responded, saying they'd be back in a few hours.

God- more hours to wait. Huffing, you layed back into your bed.

You wanted to sleep. Pass the time in a dreamscape of peace and tranquility. With your theory all but thrown out the window, you didn't have much to ponder.

No elaborate way to pass time.

No netflix to your chill.

Huffing, you shut your eyes a little harder.

Alas- you couldn't fall asleep.

You sat there, back against the top of your mattress and torso beneath a mass of blankets for what felt like hours.

When you lifted you head out of annoyance to look at the clock- it had only been a few minutes.

Groaning, you pushed yourself over the edge of your bed, slowly slinking down until you met the floor, blankets falling off with you as you sank into the mess of clothes and papers.

Laying there, on the floor, you let yourself fade. Thoughts melding into one and other with a scorching yet caramel like flow. The papers weren't the softest- and some of it scratched at your arms with a an unpleasant angle, but you sat there nonetheless.

Something black began crawling closer to your face amidst this. Inching steadily with a wary wobble of whiskers.

You knew what that was.

Antenna, layers of legs-

An indignant screech left you, as you flung yourself upwards with a scrambled flurry of limbs.

The centipede that had been so slowly inching towards you took off in a frenzy, scared witless and taking the first path it saw, which was right up your legs.

Screaming reaching a whole new octave, you slapped your legs furiously, missing it twice on your shin, but finally nailing the bug when it reached just above your knee.

Mouth still open, panting, heart beating, you stared at the dead bug on your leg- ironically one of its legs still twitching in an erratic pace.

Glancing to the mess of clothes on your floor, and realizing just how dangerous it was to be standing where you were, you scurried to your door, running out into the much cleaner hallway before slamming the door.

Still panting, you sat down, looking at the smashed centipede on your leg- tiny bug guts and all.

Gross.

Reaching out with a finger, you aimed to touch it. Slowly inching closer and closer to it.

It should have been like any other time you poked something. Should have felt normal.

But it didn't.

Something warm grabbed the back of your neck. A hand, clenching itself into your nerves and guiding you towards the bug.

It felt like electricity was fizzling out of your hand, static shocks clicking up into your palm, and leaving tingling sensations behind.

Closer- and closer, your fingers grew to the corpse.

The warmth in your neck grew- spreading and spreading down the bone of your spine, up the skull of your head.

Until your finger connected with broken and leaking chitin.

The spark that came from your hand, and slipped into the corpse was frighteningly strong- all the lights in the hallway flickering out- one having the nerve to shatter entirely.

You were motionless, feeling the heated hand on your neck leave, only the cold basement type air being left behind.

Honestly, you couldn't quite describe what had happened. Not fully. Your mind was left fuzzy from the hand and reeling from the thrum of power that had just been filtered through you.

To your surprise, the centipede, still on your leg, still an owner of several tens of legs, yet very clearly. Not. Dead.

It was alive, and warily twisting its antennae in your general direction.

Your eyes widened. Dead set on the newly resurrected and multi-legged friend.

It scurried off of you, down onto the floor and through a hole near the wall, and you merely continued staring at your leg.

Were you scared? Were you horrified?

You didn't know.

You didn't feel hurt- or injured- or burdened in any way.

Just- one moment you felt like you were wrapped in clothes fresh from the dryer- and the next, you were yourself.

And you were confused.

Standing up off the floor, you stared blankly at the shattered glass.

You needed to tell someone.

You needed to tell Sam and Dean.

You needed to talk to Cas.

Shuffling into your room, you rushed past the dangerous clothes, grabbed your laptop, before rushing back out.

Past all the broken glass, and past all the dark hallways, you settled yourself at the kitchen, still scarily unshaken, and nearly tripping over yourself several times with the how dark it was.

Prying the laptop open, you sent a message to Sam as fast you could. Fingers just barely shaking, and thoughts still swirling in a spiral of cascading torrents.

Enter bar pressed.

Message.

Sent.

.

.

'Sam- something happened- be back soon- please.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooo weee- that thing thing tied to your soul sure is warm


	7. Chapter 7: Retelling

Waiting in the kitchen- in the dark- alone and confused- was agony.

Every time you glanced around you saw the shadows teetering at the edges of you sight. You felt the hand on your neck, and the chill in your spine. You feet felt cold, as sockless as they were, but you didn't move to warm them- too unfocused to try.

You didn't know when Sam and Dean would come back- which gave all the more time for your thoughts to ferment. To ripen. To blossom into even greater fears and worries.

Panic had begun to slip into your thought process. This place- the bunker- it was secured. It was supposed to be secured. Yet what just happened was not at all what you would define secure as. Knowing that made you all the more uneasy.

Dread- starting at a simmer in your stomach, had eventually began boiling, before it dropped into your gut as a stone of doubt and horror.

It could reach you. It could touch you.

It could dowse you with whatever the crap type of hoodoo magic it had just juiced you with-

And you did not. like that.

Sitting there in the kitchen felt like hourse. And it was. You know because you heard the faint opening of the front door, latches and whatnot being clicked open before being closed.

You didn't move to greet them. You stayed seated in the kitchen- in the wooden chairs- more scared then you were now that the initial shock had finally sunk in.

Down the hallways you could hear Dean rather loud complaint- something along the lines of, 'Fuck- why are all the lights out.'

Yet you still didn't move. Simply settling yourself in your dark kitchen chair.

Sam responded to him- too quiet to hear- yet just loud enough to be a distinguishable voice.

It took awhile for them to find you, but when they finally reached your dark kitchen- a flashlight was the first thing to greet your eyes- blindingly bright and irritatingly being shined on you as they cautiously approached.

A hand was placed on your shoulder, and you flinched. The warm hand on your neck was a memory, yet it still rang vividly to you.

It was a normal hand though- it was Sam, and with a shaky sigh, you stood up as he motioned.

A bit of scrounging around- and you had candles, all set up in the libraries tables.

You sat in silence as Sam and Dean nitpicked to themselves about small things. Starting off with how much of a waste of time the case they did was. No more intel to give about what your 'friend' on the other side could be. Mostly Dean complaining about needing to buy new lights- and secondly Sam defusing him with a talk about how they needed to buy news ones anyways.

It took a while- a long while- for your frayed nerves to finally settle, Sam being the first to jump when he realized you were calm.

"So- what happened?" Straightforward- sincere- genuinely concerned with your well-being.

"Yeah- why'd all the lights go splat." Dean followed up Sam's question, a relative annoyance.

Glancing between the both of them, you sidled farther into your seat, placing your hands on the table and folding your fingers between each other, "It did something to me."

Same titled his head in inquiry, "The it? As in the primordial being that you've got stuck on you?"

Nodding, you watched the both of their gazes become a notch or two more serious.

"What'd it do?" Dean pressed, leaning forward at the prospect of more info.

"It's- It's hard to explain-" You began, lifting a hand to scratch your head before continuing, "One moment I'm on the floor- the next I'm resurrecting the bug I killed."

Dean, straightening himself, flicked the paper trash he was holding in your direction, looking away and placing his hand over his mouth. The stern fold in his eyebrow was a bit frightening, but you bypassed that in favor of continuing.

"I know for certain that it was... it." You bit your lip, "The thing Cas said- about a hand. I felt it on my neck."

Sam had that look on his face- the one that says he's processing things. Playing with the puzzle pieces and fitting them every which way they could go.

"Theory." He abruptly stated, lifting a finger in the air, "This thing got past the bunker's defenses."

He pointedly jammed his finger down onto the table, giving it a few taps just to be sure, "It's using your soul as a gate."

Dean just kept his stern face on, looking at his brother and intently absorbing what Sam was placing down.

"Like- here- let me-" Sam fumbled with his pockets for a moment, pulling out a grocery list and ripping it in half, "Alright- this piece of paper," he held a piece up, the words 'bread' and 'toilet paper' being the only words you could read before he continued, "This is the bunker- and for all we know- the world."

Placing it down, he raised the second half, several expensive looking hair products the main course of grocery, "This other piece, is either the celestial being you got or the plane of existence its from."

You raised an eyebrow, to which Sam raised both of his, "Hear me out-" He pulled his knife out, setting it on the table and eyeing all the pieces of the puzzle he had, "The pieces of paper are separated- they can't be together- but the knife?"

He placed the two pieces of paper together before lifting the knife back up, "That's your soul, or the tie, or whatever is connecting you two- and if I just-" With a simple thrust motion- he stabbed the knife through the two paper, "Stab this-"

Everyone watched in slight enlightenment- whatever it was he was saying- it was making sense.

"It pokes a hole- and connect the two places."

Dean smirked at his brother, "Touché."

Sam smiled, "Just a theory."

Letting out a shaky sigh, and lifting the corner of your lips, you decided to finally add something, "Theory or not- it's the best thing we have to go off of." slumping, you let out a huff, "God- that means this thing can come up and touch me whenever it wants- and I am not happy about that."

Sam nodded.

Dean pursed his lips, "So basically your a ticking time bomb."

You looked to him with alarm, "What? Why?"

With a wave of his hand, Dean let out a snort, "Why? This thing is- first of all," He rose a finger to count, "Pissed off as all hell. Second of all," He rose another finger, "Has a gateway to this world through you, and third of all," he rose a third finger, "Can channel its power through you."

Suddenly things didn't seem as carefree, and you sunk down into your chair with the added irritation to your already festering and worried thoughts.

Dean let out another snort, "What did it do again- bring back a tiny ass bug to life?"

Keeping low to your seat, you refused to see humor in his sentence, instead choosing to keep pondering the what if's.

Sam- in another fit of eurica, fumbled around on the opposite pocket, tugging out a paper that you clearly recognized as the list.

"This is good- we're learning what it can do." He scribbled something down onto the paper, "We notched Fate off the list by the way." He finished scribbling, looking up at you, "So it brought a bug back to life- and I'll assume busted all the lights in the base."

"Or so I'm told." You nodded.

Sam stood. Gathering his papers, his knife, and stuffing them into his pockets. He paced around the room for a few seconds, hand on his chin with a tight expression.

"I need a few to think."

Without farther delay, he sped walked over to the books, grabbing and comparing, and in general taking himself out of the conversation.

That left you and Dean.

Come to think of it- you hadn't seen Cas anywhere. You hadn't heard the angel- or better yet, he hadn't come to see you. A disappointment that's to be sure. Perhaps he had some business to attend to?

"Yo- Dean- is Cas out?"

Dean just gave you a cheeky smile, "Nah- we left him in the car."

"Did you leave the child lock on?"

Dean stared at you for a few seconds before outright chortling, grinning his Cheshire faced smile before confirming, that, "No. Don't worry, I left it off."

Grinning back, you glanced around, "Why didn't he come in?"

Again, Dean gave you his cheeky little smile, "He's got stuff on his mind- Worried are we?"

Huffing, you plopped your chin onto the table, "Of course I am. He's like my only friend."

Settling into a small field of silence, you stared at Sam's back as he shuffled about. Each time he pulled a book out, dust would puff out.

Looking to Dean again, you propped your chin up with your arms, "So uh- you mind if I sleep in your room?"

It went deafeningly silent. The white noise that was Sam grabbing books momentarily paused as he turned to look at you before resuming.

"Excuse me?" Dean said, half cocking a smile and half frowning at the same time.

"You heard me." Giving your own attempt at a confident smile, you continued, "My room is a danger zone of centipedes. I need to clean it."

Sam twisted around, "Oh god- I've been waiting for you to say that." The utter relief in his voice was actually a bit amazing- and the learned fact that Sam is a clean freak was a fact you tucked into your mind for later use, "Can I help?"

"Sure." You casually agreed, flinching when Dean snapped his fingers in your face to gain your attention.

"Hey- Sunshine- back on topic-" Dean frowned with a sour cat's look, "Why can't you just sleep in Sammy's room." The seriousness of his face rivaled that of when he was talking about life or death.

Manning up- you copied his face, "Um- have you smelled Sam's room? It reeks of chemicals because all his expensive hair products. I ain't sleeping in that."

Sam puffed himself up in a flustered huff, turning back to the books and ignoring what you said. Amusing- no just from you, but to Dean too, if his side glance and small dip in seriousness was anything to go by.

He turned away from Sam though, giving you one last final glare, before subsiding. "Fine- but so help me- I better not notice that your there."

"Of course." You stated.

"Good." Dean harrumphed.

"Great." You finished.

Without farther ado, you stood up from your seat, pattering down the hallway and echoing your voice as you ran, "I'm gonna go set up!"

Dean's chair squealed behind him as he rushed after you, "God- NO- WaiT- Don't fucking touch anything you gremlin!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unedited
> 
> oo wee  
it gone be fun figuring out sleeping situations


	8. Chapter 8: Avoidance

It turned out trying to outrun a hunter wasn't the brightest idea you had ever had.

The moment you reached the hallway, legs teetering with excitement and body aiming to turn and duck behind the next wall- Dean had charged you.

Chasing things down had perks you suppose- as he all but tackled you into the wall, pinning you for just enough time to mutter about how 'he didn't want you messing with his stuff.'

He released you a moment after- and you couldn't help but think about how slow of a runner you were. If you got chased down by something else it'd be so easy for them to just kill you and move on.

Dark thoughts- yes, and instead of dwelling on them you just focused on following Dean, through hallways that were still terribly under lit- or in this case not lit at all.

Dean resorted to pulling out his phone- turning the brightness up and leisurely strolling down and towards his room.  
You were correct in your guess, seeing him stop in front of his room and look to you, "Alright- you go grab your things- I'm gonna baby proof everything." The grumble in his voice was very sour, displeased that he'd have to adjust everything for you.

Looking at him with a crinkle in your brow, you pulled out your own phone, turning on torch and strolling passed him, "Hardy har-" you spoke just as you passed his back, farther down into the hallway.

Even with your phone's light on, it was still rather dusky and very eery feeling. Even as you stopped at your room, the place just felt different now. Disassociating what was once a safe room, to a place where your just as susceptible to danger then you were before.

Sighing, you turned the door knob and walked in, warily monitoring the floor to make sure there were no centipedes.

Flittering across, you nabbed your- well everything- multitude of blankets and pillow, before fluttering back across and out of the room.

Your breath was just a bit heavier with the added scare of bugs lurking in your clothes, and using that, you ran sprinted back to Dean's room.

Without stopping to knock, you charged in, slamming the door shut before letting out an fear based giggle.

Of course you were there just in time to watch Dean slip both a 'Casa Erotica' DvD and a cowboy hat into a rather secluded looking draw.

Dean looked at you with a blank face, pursing his lips and pointing a finger at you, "You saw nothing."

"Saw something? Why would I see anything?" You cheerily chirped back, struggling to keep your hold on the many blankets in your hands.

"Good." He roughly grumbled, before continuing to straighten things.

You stood awkwardly in the entrance of the door, not sure if you should just throw everything on the floor or wait for him to give an okay.

Gruffly and rather abruptly, he turned to you, pointing a finger and very sternly saying, "The bed? Is mine. So hands off." He shifted his finger to point at the guns on his wall, "and don't even think about touching my guns."

Squinting and muttering an, "Aye aye, cap'in..." to him, you promptly threw your blankets all over the floor, deeming it a fine spot. You slept with them in a clump anyway- so straightening would be pointless.

Dean just eyed the action, agitated that you were sharing his room, but in a tired enough mood that he didn't bother trying to tell you off.

"What time is it?" You shot at him, kicking you blankets a little bit farther out of the doorway, and leaning down to fix the pillow.

"One. Considerably early." 

Humming, you took in the information before glancing to your phone. True to his word, the phone read 1:05 a.m.

Dean huffed, finishing off all the straightening before all but shoving you out of the room, stepping out and closing the door behind him with a hefty clunk.

"Alright- let's be clear- the only time you go in my room is for when you sleep- no just chilling in there."

Squinting at Dean- you pursed your lips before nodding, walking off the moment Dean understood that you got the message.

Back to the library you had supposed, idly noticing Dean going in the kitchen's direction. He was probably hungry.

Maybe you should find Cas?

He's definitely the person you want to talk to the most.

Strolling into the aforementioned room of books, you looked to Sam, seated at a table with a giant pile of dictionary type looking literature. Classic.

"Have fun." You said to him, rolling past and forwards to the steps.

"I will-" he good naturedly said back, flipping a page as if to add to the conversation.

With a hop and a twist, you were up the staircase, and at the exit to the bunker. And consequently the entrance. 

Pulling the door open, you peeked outside, spotting Dean's car instantaneously, and in turn spotting a rather lost looking Cas in the back seat. Strangely more lost looking then usually- puppy like face even more strewn up.

Ignoring the look and letting a grin reach both ears, you stepped outside into the night air and sprung your way through the fog to the side door.

You figured he just needed some good cheer to feel better about whatever was bothering his angelic mind.

One knock- two knock, your knuckles rapped against the cold and hard feeling glass window, catching Castiel's attention with the small noise. 

The strikingly blue eyes that turned to look at you seemed almost awestruck. 

Almost... amazed?

No- you know what it was-

Out of breath- like he hadn't known what just happened- like he just awoke from a dream of falling fast and furiously closer to the ground. Like he had been slapped across the stubbled face without so much as a single warning.

His hair wasn't much better. Tousled- every strand poking in different directions and decidedly rather adorable looking- as though he had been rigorously running his every finger through each fine strand of silk- 

His lips were parted in a moment of absolute question-

His eyes looked strained as they met with yours.

His shoulders were tense.

Overall- he looked quite... out of it.

Nervous.

Not bothered by his lack of awareness, you smiled, before chirping out a small, "Cas-"

But then he was gone. You had blinked- and you didn't even get to continue with your sentence- one moment he was there- and the next he was just, gone.

The faded fall of your heartbeat was suddenly much louder- 

Was it something you said? Was he busy?

Why was he busy?

Why didn't he say hello? Why didn't he say he had to do something?

Smothering out the bad feeling that came with being acknowledged and then immediately ignored, you huffed, sourly looking around before trotting back inside.

He just had something urgent to do.

You were sure he'd come back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowee- you've just been blown off  
That sure does suck
> 
> Not edited


	9. Chapter 9: Denial

The first night you slept in Dean's room was awful.

No- it wasn't Dean's obnoxious snoring that made it bad.

Neither was it the hardness of the floor against your back.

And no- it wasnt the consistent amount of times you'd wake up due to Dean accidentally hitting something while moving.

It was the lack of dreams.

Dreams that specifically included Cas- in all his full blown glory, and softness, and incredible strength and care.

You chased after that specific vision- and it never came. Instead, all you got a weird version of working at a bank- taking names and giving fast food as currency.

And when it was five in the morning, and Dean got up to do his hunter things- you still sat on the floor, closing your eyes and trying your fucking best to just drown things out- and see Cas in your dreams.

But it just. Didn't. Work.

No amount of shifting and turning, and counting sheep could let you get what you wanted.

You'd see glimpses of his wings in the corner of your eyes when you woke- twisting shadows of your mind hoping it'd be him.

It never was.

When you rose, it was eight in the morning. Sam and Dean had probably found another case by then. Probably left. Probably got in the car and drove down the rode.

And you were most likely alone in the bunker.

You had sat up, looked at the guns on Dean's walls with an utterly apathetic glance.

Was it normally this draining to not have your friend visit you?

Was it normally this- hurtful to have a friend who is clearly busy ignore you.

He probably has business to do.

He probably can't visit right now.

It's not like hes ignoring you.

Pattering out of Dean's room, a single trusty blanket pulled around you for warmth, you had made your way to the kitchen.

Some of the lights had been replaced, not all, and the one lonely light that flickered on when you pressed the kitchen switch felt accurate to your mood.

Your waddled through, opening the fridge and gazing at the empty inside.

Dean had clearly raided the fridge again. Sam would have to get more groceries.

With a push, you gently closed the fridge door, momentarily shuddering as the lingering coldness brushed your ankles.

With a sigh and a huff, you gave up on food, merely deciding to sit at the table- blanket cushioning and curling around you.

You liked to think you were in Castiel's embrace, or his fur, maybe even wings. Huddled among his warmth, and relishing in the fur of his body.

And just for a moment it worked.

Just a moment.

But it became apparent to you that it wasn't him.

The blanket couldn't match the silkiness of his pelt. The strands of pure foam and warmth- radiating grace.

His grace-

His very essence.

Neither could the blanket match his wings, strong, and broad, and positively dipped in elegance.

It couldn't match the thrum of his breath.

The pound of his heartbeat.

The rumble of his voice as he spoke to you.

It couldn't compare.

In your saddened state, you frowned.

Snuggling farther into your blanket, and ignoring the hardness of your seat.

Maybe he's not busy now?

Maybe he can visit?

Closing your eyes, you gave him a silent prayer. Hoping he would hear it.

Hoping he would decide to pop in.

You downplayed how lonely you were when you sent the message. Casually asking the question of, "Hey Cas- ya busy?"

The nonchalant tone didn't match how you felt.

Didn't match the longing.

You had to wonder to yourself when you had grown so fond of the angel.

When he was a godsend every time you talked to him.

You told him everything, didn't you?

Told him your worries and qualms- but you couldn't tell him you missed him this much.

You didn't know why.

Two- maybe three minutes passed after you sent your prayer.

Nothing happened.

No flap of wings.

No grumbled voice.

Just the stale air you breath and the flickering and lonely kitchen light.

You felt just a bit more hurt after that. A lot more worried. Strangely felt like crying.

You gave off a shuddering breath, withholding the impulsive and swaying bomb of emotions.

It shouldn't hurt that much for a friend to be busy.

Frowning at the lack of control on your own emotions, you stood from the seat, wallowing your way out into the halls, passing by the doors, until you eventually lumbered into the library.

Sitting in a seat, blanket still huddled around you, thoughts swirled in your mind. All the worse 'what ifs' and the filthy 'oh no's filled your head. He could have died. At that revaluation, you plopped your head into your arms, head pressed to the table.

He could have gotten killed by a demon.

Or one of his kin- brother and sister easily having turned against him. God knows they all are.

The deepness of your idea's stirred you heavily with grief. Filled with those twisting thoughts and stewing in the storm clouds of your mind, time blurred so fast that by the time you blinked, several hours had passed.

The bunker door was opening, clunking with the swinging motion before being swung back into place with a hefty slam.

Two sets of shoes were heard swaggering around, heavy tips recognizably those of Sam and Dean. You didn't bother to call out in greeting, waiting for them to enter the library like you knew they would.

Sam called out first, like usual, "Hey (Y/N)! We're back! We got more light bulbs!"

The halfhearted groan you moaned back at them was barely a reply, but it worked.

Hearing your call, the two sets of heavy shoes meandered over to you, one stopping next to you and the walking to the other side of the table.

A hand was placed on your shoulder, Sam's voice almost a whisper, "You doing okay?" At a lack of response he shook your shoulder a bit, leaning over to try to peer at your face.

Then, and only then, did you look to him, peeking out from your arms with a worried looking tilt or your eyes.

"Worried, but physically fine."

Sam's hand drifted to the neck of your shoulders, giving a few soft rubs and saying the sweet and soft, "Everything's gonna be fine, (Y/N)- this whole 'problem' is gonna be fixed."

Dean, from across the table let his face fall into that soft yet serious look, arms crossed as he stated facts- and not if's and but's, "I'm not gonna let some funky voodoo god do anything to you."

You frowned, not at their words, but their misunderstanding, glancing to the both of them your voice rose a few notches, worried the main tone, "You don't understand- it's Cas I'm worried about..."

"Cas?" Dean immediately questioned.

"Cas." You firmly stated.

"What about Cas?" Dean pressed.

Huffing, you crossed your arms, "Oh- I don't know- that he hasn't at all been around recently."

Dean scrunched his face up, "The fu-" He paused, "He was literally just with us."

You silenced yourself, looking at Dean and confounded as to why Cas was giving you radio static.

Seeing you frozen, Dean continued, "He's a bit spacey, but he hasn't up and vanished on us."

Tightly screwing you face up, your eyes felt a bit of a burn, "Well I haven't seen him...!" You threw your hands up, "Why would he not come and say hi..."

Sam, seeing the rising levels of stress, threw himself into the conversation, trying to defuse everything, "Hey hey hey- I'm sure there's a good explanation- we can just go ask him!"

"Yeah. We left him in the car." Dean huffed, "Again."

Sated with the answer, you stood, dropping your blankets and almost bee lining for the steps with how fast you were speed walking.

Up, up, up, and through the doors, Sam and Dean on your tail. Taking a few steps out of the bunker, you once again saw Cas in the car. Absently staring at the seats and looking rather distraught about something.

Dean gave a hefty call of, "Cas- the fuck you doing- get outta the car."

Hearing him, Castiel seemed snapped out of his stupor, glancing up. His eyes reached yours first.

His body language clammed up at the sight of you, shoulders tensing as his bright eyes refused to let go of your sight.

The blue almost seemed to glow against the darkness of the impala, and just as soon as it happened, it stopped.

Cas was gone.

No one was in the car.

The feathered flapping of wings was the only evidence he was there.

Stumped, Sam and Dean looked to you. Crestfallen and most definitely upset you.

So he WAS ignoring you...

.

.

.

Fuck him.

The burning in your eyes grew overwhelming, a bubbled tear slipping down your cheek.

Fuck. Him.

In an overwhelming score of festering emotions, both furious and incomplete, you barely recognized the tingle of static running up your arms. It danced across your spine, shooting up your neck and making your hair stand on end-

Stiff shoulders grew even stiffer, your clothes sticking to your frame from all the charged currents flustering around you.

"Fuck him." You growled. Your snarl a catalyst. Your voice the finally pin to break the surface tension of all the boiling currents around you.

Lightning filtered from you faster then you realized, originating from your neck and jolting through your knees and into the ground. Grass grew unruly, trees sprouted up in bundled heaps of wood and leaves, tearing up the concrete road, and nearly taking Dean's car with it.

The mass of overgrown shrubs at your feet weren't known to you.

Only the tingly and static shock running through your being was. That warm, delicate hand was on your neck again, heat licking through your body before fading.

The fingers were gone. The palm was gone.

The heat was gone.

And you felt cold.

.

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowee- so that happened


	10. Chapter 10: Need Some Time

Standing outside, breathless, and feeling so incredibly confused- you didn't rightly feel the hand on your arm.

Shuddering huffs of air filtered through your mouth, lips slowly straining as you bit into them.

Someone was shaking your shoulders- but you didn't feel that.

You could only focus on the leftover feeling resonating in your body- and the voice- oh god-

There was a voice- thick in the mist- veiled behind curtains- a barrier somewhere so deep in your mind that the echo reaching you became distorted with too much reverb.

A sharp pain flared across your face, and it was then your eyes finally regained focus.

You were still standing- Sam's hand on your left shoulder- Dean harshly staring at you with his arm still stretched from the slap.

"(Y/N)!" Dean all but yelled, "What the crap was that!"

Sam looked panicked, hand grappling your shoulder- almost afraid you would fall over.

Dean continued, "Are you okay!?"

"NO." You stated, stern, upset, confused, and a multitude of other negative emotions pushing against your throat to speak.

Dean softened his face- looking at the massive amount of shrubbery that clinged to walls and clogged the cement road. The sigh that escaped him was a bit frustrated, but overall one of worry.

Sam looked at Dean with his paranoid mother hen look- and after yet another moment, they began to usher you to the entrance to the bunker.

You couldn't walk though- and they abruptly realized that as well.

Both of your feet were so covered in bushes and roots, that trying to pry them out physically hurt your tendons.

You swallowed your tears in favor of blankly looking to Dean's shoes, which shuffled as he knelt to start calmly tearing at the plants.

Sam followed a second later, pulling at the roots around your knees.

You kinda felt like shit- but to be honest, you felt that way for thinking about Castiel like you just had- rather then for the way Castiel ghosted you. He was a friend- a dear one- and being that hateful to him the moment he needs space was so utterly wrong of you.

Dean pried your right leg out, giving a harsh tug before setting it back down, free of the constricting greens.

Sam pulled your left leg out a moment after, before rising to look at you from his full moose like height.

"Thanks.." You sighed out, clutching your arm, and refusing to make eye contact.

"Come on." Sam said, "Let's get you inside."

Nodding, you turned around, faintly hearing Dean shuffle to get up.

Getting into the bunker was a task in and of itself as well. Vines grew up the whole door, almost completely hiding it. With enough fiddling, all of you managed to clear it enough to get it open, walking inside with a feeling of dim hope.

The voice you had heard was still echoing through your body, faint, but still present.

Taking a seat at the library table was a blessing, as all you wanted to do was sit in your own shame. Alone.

Dean and Same sat opposite to you. Sam stiff and worried, Dean trying to play it casual, but still looking fidgety.

No one talked though- no one seemed like they wanted to talk.

Having them stare at you made you feel worse. You just needed some space-

Standing up as calmly as you could, you trailed into the hallways, wondering back until you hit Dean's door. In you went, door locked tightly behind you.

You all but threw yourself onto the floor. There was no comforting blanket to hold onto, so instead you clenched your pillow to your chest, and heaved a breathe out.

The voice finally began to settle, growing so dim and unheard that your own thoughts could finally process themselves.

You needed time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not edited
> 
> So this is a very short chapter lol- it just felt wrong to continue from there though, so I'm cuttin it off now


	11. Chapter 11: Decidedly Stupid

You were naive in thinking this way. You only realized that after a full three hours of locking yourself in Dean's room. Naive in being so nervous.

Your gut clenched anxiously, worried and hopeful all at the same time.

You wondered how Cas was doing, how Dean and Sam were taking what just happened. Maybe they thought you were dangerous.

Once again you reminded yourself of how bad your thoughts were. Doubting them like this wasnt something you should do, you needed to trust them- and trust yourself.

You decided that staying in this room alone with your thoughts wasnt going to stop that mentality. Instead, you got to your feet, clutching your pillow to you chest and stopping at the door.

When you did open the door, the metal hinges creaked- echoing through the halls painfully loud against the silence.

You needed to find them, talk to them both about what just happened.

Sam came to mind first- he was softer and easier to talk to, but then again, Dean was harsher- he was realer with you- told you the truth even if it hurt. Sometimes you needed the straight truth.

You needed to talk to both of them- together.

"Sam? Dean?" Your voice called out.

"Yeah?" Sam's voice echoed from farther down the hall. You followed after his call, meandering down the hall before calling out again.

"We're in your room!" He shouted, the clunking sound of books and papers fluttering after he spoke.

Waddling your way down to your old room, you heard several along with more clunks of books, even Dean's confused tone of voice.

Cracking the door open, you peeked inside- making eye contact with both Sam and Dean before fully entering. 

You stood by the door for a few seconds, unsure about how to approach them.

Sam had cleaned a good portion of the room, enough to make a pathway to the bookshelf. Dean on the other hand was lazing on your pillowless and blanketless bed- one of your favorite books in hand.

You moseyed over to your mattress, chucking your pillow at Dean's face before ruthlessly throwing your back onto Dean's legs.

He flinched, but refused to give up his laying space- simply pushing your pillow off his face and subtly shifting his legs.

Sam kept sorting through books, and Dean tossed your book on the floor and settled on giving you a stare.

"Aye- that's like my favorite book- pick it up." You glared at him, slapping his stomach and sitting up off his legs to look at the book.

Sam snapped his head in your direction in confusion, as did Dean.

Reluctantly you flickered your gaze between them, "What?" You scratched your cheek, "...What's wrong?"

Sam looked between you and the book, quickly stretching down to snatch the book off the ground. 

"This book is your favorite?"

You almost snorted at how much of a big deal they were making. "Yes. Haha- you know- it doesn't look it, but it's actually very interesting."

Dean's eyebrow rose the same times Sam's did and you let out another laugh- both at their weird sibling suspicion thing- and that they questioned your choice of book.

"Guys- it's a book- stop being weird." You rose your own eyebrow as they both continued to stare at you.

Sam looked at the book, flipping through a couple pages before shutting it again.

"What's it about?" Sam questioned- suspicious tone of voice so obvious that you gave him another weird look.

Dean also looked ready for your answer- just as suspicious as his brother, if even more so.

It was an easy answer- really. All you had to do was read like the first page and you'd get what it was about. You didnt even know why you had to explain this to them. Why you had to explain what this nice book was about.

Lifting a finger in the air, you parted your lips to start explaining what happens in it- but with an astounding moment of breathing in air through an empty mouth, you realized. You had no idea what that book was about.

Your eyes went wide as you looked at them, finger still held aloft in the air.

Oh god. What was that book about. You loved that book- and you read it... 

When did you even read it?

Your finger slowly fell down with the rest of your fingers, hand stuck in the air out of sheer nervousness. Your mouth shut itself as well, and you looked up at Sam with an anxious smile.

"I- uh. I don't know what its about." 

Sam made a disgruntled face. Dean made a 'done with this shit' face and continued to lounge on the bed.

"You don't at all know what this book is about?" Sam pressed lifting the book in the air. 

You shook your head no- accepting the book when he held it out to you.

"What about the language it's written in? Does it look familiar?"

You could only stare in shock at the strange symbols carved onto the cover. Rubbing your thumb on the old leather bound book, you took a moment to take it in before flipping to the first page.

All of it looked like scribbles to you. Meaningless chicken scratch that did nothing to jog any memories about them. All you could think about was the strangest feeling of nostalgia that lingered on each and every page of foreign letters. 

You shook your head no at Sam. None of it was recognizable.

Sam squinted, "Do you know where you got them from? Did you buy them?" 

Again, you shrugged, too focused on the book to look at him, "I've always just lugged them around with me..."

"What about your other books?" 

Finally, you looked up, watching as he gestured to the many books lining your cluttered bookshelf of knickknacks and papers.

"Oooh- I love all of those! They-" you choked your own smile off your face as you once again couldn't recall anything about any of them.

Sam gave you an incredulous look, before turning his expression towards Dean.

The older brother groaned immediately, "Oh god- smite me already- I'm done with weird psychedelic bullshit today." He proceeded to throw his arms over his eyes mouth pulled taut in a frown. 

Sam took a moment to look back at the books lining the bookshelf. A long stare he gave them, eyes reflecting the many thoughts swirling around inside his head. You could almost see him trying to work out problems.

"Yeah." He started, "We were wondering why you had such weird books in your room. Who'd have guessed that its just another strange thing connected to the even stranger mystery that is you." Sam sounded sarcastic- which was rare, but most definitely called for. Even you felt fed up with just how excessive everything was.

"Can we burn these books?" Was the first question you asked.

Dean spit out a, "Yes. Absolutely." before Sam sighed in an exasperated manner and ran a hand down his face,

"No Dean. We need to study this stuff."

You and Dean huffed, but didnt object any further.

How you didn't notice that the bookshelf of books you lugged around with you were strange foreign texts, you had no idea.

"Funny- I didn't even come here to talk about books. I came here to talk about what happened out there with Cas."

Sam continued to sort through books, but the glance he threw you said he was listening. 

"Do you guys know what's up with him?"

Dean just huffed out an estranged laugh at your question, "No clue- He said something about how you made him super happy. After that he spaced out. On both missions."

Sam chuckled lightheartedly, "Sounds like puppy love."

"Puppy love my ass- he ignored me despite wasting a good ten minutes doing nothing inside of a car." You threw yourself back onto the bed- and consequently Dean's legs.

Dean smirked and spoke in a teasing manner giving you a few good pokes, "Puppy love- Puppy love!" His incessant poking at your sides was both ticklish and annoying, so you smacked his hands off of you.

"Shut it big guy."

Sam grinned, "Puppy looovveee~"

You glared, "Shut it even bigger guy...!"

They gave a good hardy laugh at your efforts to assuade them differently, and from the way they didn't stop smiling you knew their thoughts were already set in stone.

Eventually Sam went back to sifting through library books, while Dean, on the other hand, continued to relax on your bed. Even if sitting on his legs was kind of uncomfortable- the domesticity of the atmosphere was much more pleasant then the tenser atmospheres that had been recently occurring.

Much calmer- and much warmer feeling.

The white noise of clunking books and shuffling papers matched with the comfy air of the room was more then enough to lull you to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowee- finally some sleep for this absolutely beaten up reader.

**Author's Note:**

> I love wings- I don't know why


End file.
